"Because there's simply no one more suitable than you."
Kasamatsu blinked twice, his expression flat and unamused.
"No one more suitable than me, huh…"
He sighed and emptied his coffee cup in one long sip before glaring at the man across from him.
"Please don't joke like that. What's next? You're gonna tell me I'm the best point guard in Japan now?"
His tone was teasing—but Kagetora didn't smile. He just nodded, serious as ever.
"That's right. You're the most suitable one."
Kasamatsu froze mid-gesture, a dull look overtaking his face. "…You've gotta be kidding me."
"I'm not" Kagetora said plainly.
Kasamatsu let out a short laugh and rolled his eyes. "Come on. Don't mess with me like that."
But the look in Kagetora's eyes didn't waver—it was steady, resolute, and completely sincere.
The humor drained from Kasamatsu's face. He set his empty cup down with a faint clack.
"There's no way. There are so many point guards stronger than me. Seriously."
"Just in Kaijō alone, there are two..."
He couldn't help thinking of that final game—the one that made Yuki a household name overnight. It stung a little, remembering it. Even setting Kota aside — the first-year who had taken his starting spot without breaking a sweat — now even Kaijō's new rookies were shining.
And Yuki? He was a point guard too, one who could go toe-to-toe with Kota during scrimmages. The only reason he hadn't claimed the starting position yet was because Kota's current form was too overwhelming.
Kagetora took another sip of his coffee, grimacing at the bitterness. "You're right, Kasamatsu. Skill-wise, plenty of players out there might be stronger than you. But…"
He sighed. "Some of them can't play, and others simply don't want to."
Kasamatsu frowned. "What do you mean?"
Kagetora scratched his cheek, his tone darkening.
"You've probably heard of Kurikuni, the current head of the Japan Basketball Association."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"His stance was simple. 'It's just a match we'll lose anyway. Send whoever. No need to waste our best players.' That's what he said."
Kagetora turned his head toward the window. In the street outside, a single flower lay fallen on the pavement—then a passing car crushed it without hesitation.
Kasamatsu watched his senior's reflection, silent for a moment. "…And the Generation of Miracles?" he finally asked.
Kagetora waved a hand before the question was even finished. "Those kids are good—hell, they're monsters—but there's one fatal problem."
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Kasamatsu. The latter shook his head, so Kagetora shrugged, placed one between his own lips, and reached for his lighter.
"These kinds of exhibition matches don't allow high school players to participate."
He flicked the lighter open—but before the flame could touch the cigarette, Kasamatsu snatched it out of his hand.
"No smoking in the café."
Expressionless, Kasamatsu handed the lighter back. Kagetora looked around, embarrassed, then muttered a soft "my bad" and stuffed the cigarette pack away.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, that's the situation. Which is why I said — you're the most suitable choice."
He leaned forward now, eyes sharp and sincere.
"Maybe those old fools at the Association are right—maybe this match is unwinnable. But I've never been the kind of man to surrender before the fight even starts."
Aida's voice hardened, a faint, stubborn smile tugging at his mouth.
"So help me, Kasamatsu. The result might already be decided, but even so—let's give everything we've got. Let's make this exhibition match something worth remembering."
....
"Again."
"Again."
"Again!"
Kota's slightly stiff Mandarim echoed again and again through the gym.He only said that one sentence—over and over—because ever since Li had started attacking, every attempt had ended the same way: Kota smacked the ball straight out of bounds before the offense could even form.
Technically, under one-on-one rules, when the offensive player sends the ball out, it counts as a defensive stop. But Kota wasn't interested in switching sides—he was testing his defense, and clearly enjoying himself. So each time, he simply repeated, "Again," waving for Li Wenyu to come at him.
"Hah… hah… what the hell is this kid, a monster?!"
Panting, Li stared at Kota in disbelief.
Six, maybe seven possessions—and he hadn't scored once. Not a single point. He hadn't even managed to step into the paint before Kota stripped the ball away.
At first, he thought it was bad luck. But after getting shut down this many times, even he couldn't lie to himself anymore.
"As the captain," he thought grimly, "if I can't even get one basket in, what kind of joke am I?"
Li lowered his stance, eyes sharp, face tense with determination.He had only one thought left—to drive that damn ball into the hoop no matter what.
"Winning doesn't even matter anymore," he muttered. "This one shot—this is everything I've ever believed about basketball!"
"So… just go in already!"
With a roar, he exploded to the right, sweat flying, every muscle straining. His expression was fierce—like a man who had already made peace with his fate.
Too bad Kota wasn't in the mood to hold back.
Smack!
Another clean steal. Kota hadn't even moved his feet—just reached out with one arm and swiped the ball like it was nothing.
The ball bounced out of bounds again.
On the sidelines, Sun and Ebi watched blankly, faces numb.At first, the sound of those perfect steals had shocked them—but after the seventh or eighth one, even brilliance lost its novelty.
Kota, though, was far from bored.
He flexed his right hand, eyes thoughtful.
"Again—"
"Nope! Nope! I'm done!"
Li staggered back a few steps and dropped flat onto the court, his face twisted in defeat, like a man who'd just been utterly destroyed.
Kota blinked, then hurried over to pull him up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Sorry, Captain. I got a little carried away. You okay?"
"Heh… you got a little carried away and still managed to crush me on defense…"
Li stared up at the ceiling, voice hollow.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just your friendly neighborhood weak-sauce captain having a minor breakdown."
Kota scratched his cheek in embarrassment, about to respond when Sun stepped forward, clapping.
"That was impressive, Kota. Truly impressive. Now I see why my mentor spoke so highly of you."
He gave Li a consoling pat on the shoulder before turning back to Kota with genuine admiration.
"My mentor told me you were even stronger in full-court play than in one-on-one. That true?"
Kota nodded modestly. "A little bit."
"Hahaha!" Sun laughed loudly. "If that's 'a little bit,' then I'm terrified to see what 'a lot' looks like!"
He grinned.
"Alright, that's enough for today. I've seen what I needed to. Tomorrow, if you're free, come again. We'll set up a five-on-five full-court scrimmage. How's that sound?"
Kota gave a polite smile. "Sure. I'll go with whatever you decide, Coach."
Ebi came over, giving Kota's shoulder a firm squeeze.
"Nice work out there. Need me to call a cab for you? Or should I ask Shu to drive you?"
"No need," Kota replied quickly. "Reiko's waiting for me outside."
He had promised to make it up to her after standing her up last time—thanks to the system suddenly completing a task and throwing his emotions into chaos. So today, he'd made sure to tell her they'd hang out as soon as practice ended.
Ebi waved him off with a smile.
"Alright, go have fun. You two are young—enjoy yourselves. Just stay safe, yeah? China's pretty peaceful, but still, better to be careful."
"I got it. See you, Coach Ebi. Coach Sun. Captain."
Kota waved goodbye to everyone, then exhaled softly as he stepped out of the gym.The moment he left, the atmosphere inside grew quiet.
Sun turned to Li Wenyu, giving a subtle hand signal. The captain immediately understood.
"His drives are sharp, but not particularly fast," Li analyzed. "With good help defense, we could probably contain him in a full-court game."
Sun nodded. "Go on."
"As for the rest… hard to tell yet. We only played a few possessions. But his defense—man, that's just insane."
A shiver ran down Li Wenyu's spine as he remembered those steals.
"At first, I figured he wasn't tall, so I didn't take his defense too seriously. But once I started watching closely… I realized that guy's defense is something else."
"There's… this aura about him," he said slowly. "It makes you uncomfortable—like you're standing in front of a defensive master who's been playing the game for fifty or sixty years."
He swallowed, glancing toward the door Kota had exited.
"But that guy's not even twenty yet. What the hell is he?"